


Through the Years, Darkly

by Python07



Category: Batman (1966)
Genre: Angst, M/M, no camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy to escape from history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Years, Darkly

Years of training and experience and he didn’t hesitate to fire. His focus narrowed down to the figure in the bright purple suit preparing to throw a lever that would drop Batman and Robin into a vat of acid. He fired two shots and he didn’t miss. One shot to the arm and the target didn’t stop. The second shot dead center in the chest dropped the target to the floor.

He let the breath out slowly that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heart beat loudly in his ears and yet his hands were steady. He slid his service weapon back into its holster.

He ignored the Dynamic Duo tied up a few feet away as they were in no immediate danger now. He approached slowly and dropped to one knee by the target’s side. He frowned at the spreading red stain on the target’s chest and the rapidly forming puddle beneath. “Why didn’t ya stop? Why did ya force me hand?” he murmured.

A hand devoid of its usual purple glove grabbed his wrist. “Because I’m not going back to jail,” he rasped. “Not again, my dear Chief O’Hara.”

He still didn’t look at the face. “You always taunted us that it wasn’t that bad.”

The hand squeezed. “I lied.”

“You’ve always escaped before,” he said dully.

Two weary words came in response. “I’m tired.”

He shut his eyes. “You’ve made me a killer then.”

“The dynamic dunderheads are much too softhearted.” There was a laugh interrupted by wet coughing. “It had to be you. You forget I’ve seen you in the fire. You will do what is necessary. I made you firing on me necessary.”

He shook his head against the roiling emotions in the pit of his stomach, emotions he never thought he could have at this point in their lives. “You’ve always been a stupid spic,” he growled wearily.

Another weak laugh. “And you’ve always been a stubborn mick.”

He let his hand be guided to the other’s chest. He didn’t flinch from the heat and feel of blood. A small piece of flat metal was pressed into his palm. His fingers curled around it and the other hand curled around his tightly. “I never would’ve expected you to keep those old dog tags.”

“They were a reminder of the one thing from my old life I was sorry to lose.” The voice was still rough, yet serene. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You saved my life on Okinawa and you’re freeing me now.”

He opened his eyes and met that gaze. He managed a bitter smile. “I never thought I’d see me old friend Jack again under all the make up.”

“I’ll see you on the other side.” Even with the blood on his lips, the Joker managed one last brilliant grin before he slipped away.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joker shifted again behind the driver’s seat. He checked his watch again. “Come on. Come on.” He peered out at the dark, deserted street. “This shouldn’t be taking this long.”

He impatiently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “Something’s not right.” He glared at himself in the rearview mirror. “That’ll teach you. If you want something done right, do it yourself. Pengy told you not to take that amateur with you when you busted out, said he’s not right in the head.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Pengy will be insufferable the next time you see him. Quack. Quack,” he mocked sourly.

The amateur ran out of the house he’d been watching. Joker jumped out of the car as the man ran up to him. “Where’s the hostage?” he demanded. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t handle one copper after the old flatfoot just worked a sixteen hour day.”

The amateur grinned madly. “Oh, I handled him all right.”

“What do you mean?” Joker asked suspiciously. He looked him up and down. “What’s that on your pants? And did you change your shirt?”

“Yeah. Flatfoot had some nice stuff.” The new bane of Joker’s existence pressed a bag into his hands. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be part of your gang anymore. Keep your money. I got another name for my list.”

“What list?”

The amateur simply giggled, waved, and ran off.

He threw the bag into the back seat of the car and turned his attention back to the house. The front door was open. He cautiously walked up to it. He stopped just outside and tilted his head to listen but he didn’t hear anything.

He stepped inside the front room. He flipped the light on to find a mess of overturned furniture, a broken television, and books and papers scattered everywhere. “I love chaos as much as the next arch villain but this isn’t what I had in mind.”

He followed the trail of destruction into the brightly lit kitchen. He found his original quarry covered in blood and slumped in one of the kitchen chairs with his chin resting on his chest. He saw the bloody knife on the floor.

Before he could think about it, he was on his knees in front of the chair. There was so much blood, he couldn’t count all the stab wounds. “Chief,” he whispered at a loss. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I honestly only wanted a hostage to lure the caped creeps. You know me. It was just supposed to be part of the game.”

He ducked his head to see the dead man’s face. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “I still remember the day we met. You were eight years old standing up to that bully twice your size, split lip and you still didn’t back down. I was fifteen and I must admit that I was impressed. Then the way your family took me in…”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he ground out. He straightened up. “I’ll get that bastard.”

Batman and Robin never caught the killer. However, parts of his dismembered corpse turned up at various locations in Gotham City. One of his hands was discovered at the main library. His foot at a football field. One leg at the city jail. His cock and balls arrived in a jar for Commissioner Gordon. Lastly, his head was discovered on Chief O’Hara’s grave.


End file.
